


The Lake

by LenaVentrue



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, BDSM Psicology, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Crying Kink, Dom Wade Wilson, Dom/sub, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Kind of breathplay, Like a lot of sick fluff BDSM Style, LittlePeter, M/M, Maybe-but for me is the right BDSM, No safeword because Peter doesn't want to have one, Porn starts at chapter four, Praise Kink, Rape Roleplay, Romance, Rough Oral Sex, Size Kink, Spanking, Sub Peter Parker, Very sadistic Wade Wilson, Violence, but most of just a sub getting choked, consensual humilliation, feeding with cum, sick bdsm, some blood, super-too-masochist Peter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-06 20:38:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14655759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LenaVentrue/pseuds/LenaVentrue
Summary: Peter Parker has been a sub since he was sixteen years old. After a bad D/S relation he had until he's eighteen, he hasn't had any other dom. Now Peter is 21 and needs -like he really needs- a Dom. And he tries to suppress his needs like he has done this last three years... but his masochism puts him in danger during a fight.Luckily, Deadpool is around and saves him. Will he also be able to save him from his others terrifying needs?Warnings: I just wrote what BDSM is to me. I know, you will find a lot of sickness in here. But I believe there are more people like me, to whom this sickness is more like a "passionate way of experiencing human emotions".





	1. The problem and the... solution?

**Author's Note:**

> I will put more tags at notes at the beginning of each chapter if it's needed because I don't want to make spoilers.
> 
> I will sincerely appreciate comments, even if it's because you didn't like the story :) I want to improve my writing, and to show to the world what real BDSM is to me.

Peter Parker was tired. A long time ago, when he was only a simple teenager, life was rough enough. He had to deal with bullies, with his particular life situation (the death of his parents), and of course, studies and social life. Then, out of nowhere, this powers appeared. He understood the responsibility that they meant. If he could stop sorrow, pain, death… in simple words, “crime”, how could he refuse? He was only fifteen and he took the weight of reality and human behavior upon his shoulders. High school problems stopped being important, and despite of the death of his uncle, the relationship with may kept improving. He could graduate and start college, thanks to the financial help of his aunt and his little part times jobs he would find and quick (or be kicked out) in a matter of months. Always he had one thing very clear, in his list of priorities, helping people was the top of it. That didn’t help a lot with keeping a job for a long time.

At this point, he was twenty one years old, living by himself in a little apartment close to his aunt’s place. During mornings he was going to college, and in the midday-afternoon he worked at a café next to the faculty. He couldn’t help it, he really liked people and being pleasant to anybody always made him feel better. Working there, putting a big smile on his face -even if he was sad- made his day become a memorable day, and at the end of his ship he had enough motivation to be the beloved vigilante that New York so desperately needed. 

All started when he got the powers. Sometimes, he thought that all this need to please, to be useful, to improve life for others, was excessive. If he couldn’t be on time to stop a robbery or a criminal would ran away without being caught, he felt too bad, to useless, a complete failure. He knew he couldn’t let these situations to affect him so deeply, the accomplishment of a purpose or the failure of a heroic act. He knew his feelings would be a problem if he couldn’t manage to control them, so he kept looking for a way to do that that wouldn’t interfere with his duties. And he found it. The first time he thought he had found it it was through literature. Those afternoons or nights when he was just waiting up on a roof, in his Spiderman costume expecting bad things to happen in order to stop them, he started reading little books that he kept hidden in little places. Behind a brick of the highest roof where he could control a big zone of the city, he had his secret library. 

The sorrow he had deep inside his soul, all the suffering he had to go through his life in the past -or even in the present- he saw it reflexed in his books. He would look into characters with dilemmas, strong and powerful, but sensitive and fragile. He saw himself in Lestat, from Anne Rice’s books. He knew that his perception of good and bad was well defined, not like in Lestat’s mind, but he felt like sort of a prince as well, with the mission of bringing peace to his own kingdom, his city. Lestat had embraced his mission after being fighting against it a long time. Peter knew that himself had embraced his own mission the moment it was meant to him, the moment he got his powers. But at the end, they were the same. 

Then Peter read something… something that would change him, or maybe all the contrary… something that would help himself expand and grow and be free. He read that “crying is a pleasure most men didn’t know about, most men denied, and all of us needed”. Those, more or less, were the words of Lestat, of Anne Rice. And he saw himself crying, feeling the freedom, accepting the sorrow like a power and not like a load. He decided that this author could really help him, and he found his most sweet and bitter source of empowering: the Sleeping Beauty quartet. That night, he was just sixteen years old. Virgin, sensitive, and hungry for the feeling of being useful. That night, he discovered what surrender yourself to somebody meant. He had never done that, he had never surrendered himself powerless by his own will. And after reading the first book of the Sleeping beauty quartet, after discovering the world of the domination and the submission, he saw a path he could really follow to calm the needs of his soul. He discovered BDSM.

He kept reading all the fullness that slaves felt when they were pleasing their owners, and he thought that maybe, if he could please somebody in this level, he could really stop feeling that he needed to please the whole world. He was afraid, of course, about the sex part. Maybe he could be some kind of slave, but not a sex slave. But as more he thought about it, more he liked the idea. The sexual part of human soul and body was so intimate, so sincere, that surrender it to somebody else would be the most meaningful act of his life. Maybe, if he wasn’t his, if he was somebody else’s for a period of time, even just for a minute, he wouldn’t feel his own feelings. He wouldn’t be him, he would be what his owner wanted him to be. He could stop being Peter Parker, he could have a little vacation of himself and give all the responsibility of his existence, feelings, dreams and aspirations to somebody that would take care of him and be pleased through him. It sounded like a dream. But he knew it was just a dream. Wasn’t it?

Even if we wanted to make it happen, how would he? He was sixteen, where could he find someone to own him? And that was when we realized the most important issue. Not where, but who. Those characters, those doms from his books, were perfect. With a possessive and protective behavior, they always would take care of their slaves even when they were wreaking pain on them. Those doms were very self-confident people, responsible and loyal. 

At his twenty-one years he looked down to the old books hidden in this old secret spot. It had been ages he didn’t visit his library. He remembered how he discovered the Sleeping Beauty quartet, and what that led him to. Yes, he found a real dom. Or that’s what he thought. He didn't want to remember all of that, but nostalgy had brought him there. That man he found. He taught him everything, but at the end, as all the good things he had in his life, everything turned into a disaster. While he thought he had finally found his owner, that man was just taking advantage of him until he got tired. Two years of his life, having secret escapades to meet him, pleasing him, feeling fulfilled inside of his heart because of him. It ended up being nothing. Meaningless. 

Peter sighed and left the books down again, behind the bricks. Maybe one day he could take them home with him, maybe one day he would just burn them all. But now he hadn’t the strength to do it. Three years of his life being on his own, without belonging to anybody, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. After the big disappointment with his dom, he couldn’t start again in that world. He was too afraid. What if the next one would do the same? He couldn't surrender himself, all of himself, to somebody that at the end would just despise him. He needed the other person to love him, in order to allow this person to hurt him deeply, in order to let himself to him. 

But god, he needed to be hurt so bad. He needed the pain, that pain that made him forget that that was even pain. That pain that presented as a deep calm lake whose waters would hug him with long and rhythmic licks, embracing him, inviting him to sink peacefully. And despite of this need, he was too afraid to try again. But he had already tried the pleasure of swimming in the waves of his desires, the unconsciousness of his own mind at the limit thanks to the pain. Could he keep living his life without it now? He was trying. Believe me. He really tried. 

The job at the coffee shop was and intent to do that, to keep with his life without having an owner. Pleasing strangers wasn’t the same, but it was a nice placebo. He knew of customers that only came there because of him. Because he was nice, smiley, always happy to listen to them, to make them happy. Then they would make him know that they were pleased, leaving a smile, a quiet and shy “thank you”, or directly telling him that he made their day better. But it wasn’t enough for Peter. Every day the urge was growing and growing, turning into a painful feeling that needed to be helped. 

Anyways, he was completely disposed to ignore it. It wasn’t the best of the ideas, he knew, but he had to do it. For his own sake. Or at least that’s what he believed. And he couldn’t be possibly more wrong about it. 

It was late. Around one after midnight when an alarm of a bank near his home activated. He was just arriving home after patrolling, but he jumped through his window again and went there as fast as he could to stop it. He stood on the wall from the building in front of the bank, analyzing the situation. There was a van parked on the street with a driver. He could count four people inside the bank. The alarm had been deactivated almost instantly and the robbers were working patiently. It was an easy job, go there, beat them, and web them for the police. Four regular criminals in a bank, an easy going. 

He entered and shouted at them.

“Isn’t it a little bit late to take out cash? Couldn’t you wait until tomorrow?”

Two of the robbers turned surprised to see who was shouting, and they saw Spiderman on the ceiling. 

“Hi darling, wanna join the party?” answered the one Peter supposed was the leader. 

“Maybe next time, if you behave” he replied back and threw a ball of web as solid as a rock against the gun that the man was holding, disarming him. Quickly, the others pointed their guns at Spiderman and opened fire, but he was faster and shouted his webs against them. With a jump, he pulled the webs causing two of the men to hit each other’s bodies. The third one who tried to run away with a bag of cash was caught when he was almost passing through the door. Spiderman had webbed his legs, making him fall. Suddenly, the noise of the van driving away made him think that he had lost one of the criminals, and in that moment of hesitation, the leader of the criminals took advantage to jump on the back of our hero, holding him tight. 

Peter could have easily got rid of him, but he didn’t. He didn’t realize at the moment, but feeling somebody wanting to restrain him was too pleasant, too good, to make it stop immediately. He pretended to be fighting it, but he wasn’t. Was he aware of it? we don’t know. He maybe was just feeling, not thinking, and that situation made think the robbers that Spiderman could maybe be beaten this time. Seeing their leader struggling with what looked like a weak Spiderman gave courage to his associates, who approached to help him. One of them hit Spiderman in the face as hard as he could. Peter moaned. It felt so good. He needed that so desperately. That pain. And his enemies only thought that yes, they could hurt Spiderman. Maybe tonight they could accomplish a nice and painful revenge for all the times he had stopped them from doing a nice job robbing all those banks. 

The punches didn’t stop. Peter saw himself sunk in a storm of kicks, punches and insults. In short time he was on the floor, just receiving the beat of his life. 

“This is what happens what you get in our business, you asshole.”

“Yeah, and this is for what you did to my cousin Joey” Said another voice, followed by a hard kick on Spiderman’s belly. 

There was not a single part of his body that wasn’t being hit. Four men were getting even on him, sweating because of the effort and enjoying every moment of it. Spiderman made himself a ball, stood steady in fetal position trying to protect himself without being aware of it. The robbers would never imagine what was going on in the heart of our hero. 

Peter was in heaven. Or what was the same, he was calmly swimming, floating, in the waves of his particular lake. He was freed, at least. He could just let everything happen and abandon himself to the pain, the sweet licks of that sharp tongue that wouldn’t stop. It should never stop, he kept thinking without thoughts, I don’t want to come back to me, I need to be here… this is my home, finally. 

“We should kill him now.” Said the leader. “We will be heroes! and we will take his mask as prove. We will be ruling the underworld.” And he walked away to take the gun that time ago - minutes? hours? ages?- Spiderman had pushed away from them. And when he got it and pointed it to Spiderman, that was already almost a corpse on the floor, all messy and moaning weekly, somebody else walked in the bank through the front door, like he owned the place. 

“Hey, hey, hey, what's going on in here? “ spoke carefreely. 

“Who are you? You won’t stop us!” cried one of the robbers. 

“Is it a party? Without inviting me? You make me so sad.” Answered back, almost singing. While he was looking to the three men that were still kicking an almost unconscious Spiderman on the floor, he grabbed one of his katanas and threw it to the leader who had the gun, that was three meters away from them. The katana separated the arm from its body with a clean cut. It touched the floor with a metallic sound: the gun had fallen with the arm that was grabbing it. The leader screamed loudly, and this sharp sound made Spiderman realize that he was not just floating in his particular lake, that something else was happening far away from him, in the real world. 

The three thugs stopped paying attention to Peter and turned to see who the hell had just ripped their boss’ arm off. And they saw an image that really scared them. A tall masked man pointing a gun to them. He was wearing a red suit with what looked like a lot - I mean, seriously a lot- of weapons. The mask was red with white eyes, surrounded by two black circles that made the whole picture look more aggressive, more lethal. They knew that with Spiderman, the worse that the situation could get was being webbed up and caught by the police. But that man standing barely a few meters of them meant real problems, real pain. A few months of jail couldn’t be compared to what you could get of provoking this guy. 

Hesitation appart, Deadpool shot the three guys on the head. Then he heard the fourth guy -who now had only one arm- screaming and remembered that he was still alive. As he was addressing to where Peter was, he killed the last thug without even looking. He didn’t care, they had almost broken his favorite hobby. 

“Hey little Spider, Are you ok?” He asked as he bent over Peter to give him a closer look. 

He was a mess. The suit had several stains of blood and dust. He was trembling and panting hard, still in fetal position. Actually, Peter couldn’t hear all of what was happening. He was aware somebody had talked to him, but he was too deep in his lake to understand any of it. And he was fighting it. He didn’t want to come out to reality, it was too soon! but he knew that eventually he had too, so he abandoned himself to the return, slowly. He felt two strong arms lifting him up. And then he started to remember. 

“Sht, it’s ok. It’s ok.” Said Deadpool as he felt the little bug moving restlessly against his chest. And Peter believed that unknown voice.


	2. His saviour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, get ready for the beginning of what is gonna be a lot of BDSM fluff. And some angst, but almost nothing.   
> additional tag: hurt spiderman.

He woke up on a soft surface. He tried to move but everything was hurting just too much, and he left out a quiet moan as he tried to check on himself. He noticed that his mask was still on, and while we was wondering why the hell he would go to sleep wearing it, he realized that he hadn’t gone to bed yet, at least my himself. So he opened his eyes with surprise, feeling the adrenaline starting to go through his veins, getting ready for the danger. Whose room was that? Obviously he was just lying on someone’s bed, calmly, but the surroundings were too unknown to just relax. 

“Good you’re up. I made pancakes!” suddenly a man spoke, standing on the bedroom’s door. 

“Where am I? Who are you?” said Peter, trying to sound threatening, but failing, his voice breaking because of the pain. 

“Hey hey, don’t ya worry. I’m a friend! I saved you last night, you remember?” No, Peter didn’t, that was too soon, too early. 

“Who are you?” He insisted, needing at least a name to feel less out of place. 

“Look, you are at my place. I’m kind of super, like you. My name is Deadpool.” The man sounded a little bit concerned, and talked to him like he was some sort of a child. 

“Deadpool? What kind of name is that?” That’s all he could manage to say at that moment. 

“Well, you can call me Wade if you prefer.” That made even less sense, thought our little, damaged and confused hero. 

“C’mon, let's get you out of bed. Can you move? Oh man, you really got beaten hard last night.”

And then Peter remembered. The bank, the thugs, the lake. Oh no, the lake. He left himself fall completely on the bed again. What had he done? and he brought his hands to his face, against the mask. Embarrassment crawled up his heart and mind. Why? That's all he could think now. Why had let that happen to him?

He felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Spidey, you just had a bad night, come to the living room. Do you like pancakes? I made a tone.”

That friendly voice kind of calmed him, and he nodded as he let that masked man help him getting out of the bed and walking until the sofa. 

“Spiderboy, really. Eat a little bit, it will make you feel better. Then you can tell me how the hell four regular-nonsuper- stupid-and-lazy criminals got you.”

Oh no, he couldn’t explain. 

 

They ate in silence until Peter got enough strength to address to that mysterious man who was being so kind to him. 

“Thanks for saving me” He started speaking, low voice due to the injuries he could still feel all over his body. “Are you a superhero too?” And he heard that man who called himself “Deadpool” laugh sarcastically. 

“No, of course. I might be super, but I am no hero.”

What kind of answer was that anyways? Thought Spiderman, and before he could reply back, the other man started talking again. 

“I beat bad guys for money. I mean, bad bad guys. Worse than me. You know? I make a better world, and I earn money on the way.” and he put a whole pancake up in his mouth like he just had said the expected forecast for that day. 

“So, you are a merc. If you expect me to pay you for saving me, I must say, you just saved a poor spider” He spoke without thinking, but it didn’t matter a lot. How worse the situation could get? 

“ I didn’t do it for the money, I did it for the entertainment” and again, that had no sense at all.

“The entertainment?” Repeated Peter, slowly.

“Yeah, the entertainment. Look, I don’t want to freak you out. But I’ve been following you. Your patrol, your moves. You are a very interesting little insect, didn’t you know? “ and Deadpool kept eating, acting like he was completely unaware of how creepy that might have sounded. “If you die, what will I do on my free nights?”

Spiderman didn’t know what to say at that point. He just stopped eating at stare at that weird man that out of nowhere had confessed to be a stalker -and a mercenary- like it wasn’t a big deal. 

He was wearing a regular pair of jeans and a grey hoodie, and also white clean snickers. Peter thought that if it wasn’t because of the mask, he would look like a completely normal guy. Actually even kind of hot. He was tall and big and muscular. He vaguely remembered him carrying his almost passed out body through the streets and flushed a little bit. Peter couldn’t stop observing Deadpool while he devoured breakfast. He had lift his mask until the nose to be able to eat, and Peter realized that the part of his face he could see was completely covered with what looked like old healed scars. The hands that were attacking the pancakes were also scared, and he thought that Wade might have survived some sort of fire or catastrophe. 

He tried to focus on the fact that he was at some extranger’s place, in his Sipiderman suit -completely ruined- and still with the wounds of last night’s fight. It was almost midday and thank god it was sunday because he couldn't allow himself to lose anymore jobs. He should probably go home immediately, change clothes and deal with those events. 

“Thanks for everything, but I need to go.”He said, as he tried to get up from the couch. A sharp pain crossed his chest making him fall again on his body. 

“Ok, but you can’t. How bad are you?” Deadpool sounded kind of worried as he approached to check him.

“I will be fine in a few hours, because I’m super and everything…”

“I can borrow you some clothes. I love those tights sport sweatpants, I have a lot of them! Don’t worry, little super, you can stay all day on that couch being so cute. I can even cook more pancakes. Would you like that?”

Why the hell that guy was being so fucking nice to him, wondered Peter, but it was a good deal and actually he couldn’t do anything else in his state. A bell rang under this ear, he had called him cute, but Peter couldn’t pay attention to that now. Too many things, too many issues going on in his mind. 

First he got a shower. A long, warm, shower. The apartment where he had woken up wasn’t that bad. He could recognize the zone of the city looking through the window and it was near his place. Everything was messy, of course, and he could notice that the man lived alone. There was too many guns around, even in the bathroom, but having met him it shouldn’t be a surprise. His spider-sense was calm, so he arrived to the conclusion that he didn’t need to worry about Deadpool, or Wade, or whoever that man was. He couldn’t figure that out later, when he felt better. 

It wasn’t the right moment, time, nor place, but he had the urge to face finally those events. Last night. He tried to recapitulate all the actions in order. He went to the bank, he saw the robbers. He put the guns away, fight them at the beginning. And then, what happened? He felt those arms, so good around his body, and like a kid waking up on a school day, just thought “five minutes more”. A little bit more and then I will fight him. But the fact was that he didn’t fight him at the end. He couldn’t think. He was just feeling how good was the pain, the punches, the kicks, the touch. He completely forgot where he was or with whom. He knew he couldn’t allow himself to have a mistake like that ever again. But, could he thrust himself? Did he let those men beat him in a rational and conscious decision? No, he couldn’t help it. His body and mind acted by their own. How he was going to be Spiderman if he couldn’t help the urge to fall into the lake at the minimum chance? He could get himself killed. 

So the conclusion was obvious. He needed to find a dom, a very sadistic and caring person who would take care of him, or he wouldn’t be able to fight crime ever again. But if in all those years he hadn’t been able to do that, how is supposed to do that now immediately? He could always go to BDSM clubs and beg for it to strangers, he know that they would be pleased to treat him. But that was too scaring. More scaring that knowing he could fall to any criminal anyway? That was a big dilemas. He needed to find a dom, and he was really convinced he would try hard. He couldn’t stop thinking how, who, when…

“Are you doing well in there? Still alive? Has the toilet sucked you? Did you draw into the bath?” A funny voice yelled from the other side of the bathroom door. 

“I’m good. Coming out!” He dried himself with the only towel he could see. When he dried his hair he could feel the smell of the towel. So powerful and sweet. It smelled like the same shampoo he just had used and like something else he thought would be Wade’s scent. It was strong, viril, perfect. He tried to take those thoughts away because, again, it wasn’t the the right moment nor the right place. Maybe last night’s beat had triggered his desires, and only from contemplating the possibility he felt embarrassment all over. How had he managed to repress his sluty, masochist and slave self for so long? He had no clue, but sure he was paying the consequences now.

He came out of the bathroom with deadpool’s clothes on and masked. His anfitrion and saviour was washing the dishes in the kitchen. The whole situation felt surreal.

“Hey” he said, from the kitchen’s door. After the shower “and of course thanks to his healing factor”he was feeling much better. Still sorrowed, but better. 

“Look at you, standing up. You heal fast!” Said Wade while he was pushing out the last dish. 

“Yes… uh” Now that Peter had made a decision about his situation - he would seriously look for a dom as soon as he got out of there- he could allow himself to take this other situation on board. “We need to talk”. 

“Anything Spidey wants” sang the other man as he followed Spiderman back again to the living room. 

“So, explain this to me. You don’t seem to be a danger. You have even saved me -thanks for that- but, how the hell have you been stalking me and why exactly?” He decided to be direct. In the worse of the cases, he had a lot of his strength back, although he highly doubted he would have to need it.

“Well, one day I just got bored, and I saw you around, and I started following you.” Simple, thought Deadpool. 

“But, I never noticed you before. For how long? and really, just because you get bored?” It was truly unbelievable.

“You are the most interesting thing out of the cinema. And nowadays films are not very interesting. All about killing heroes and creating angst to fans to have then a sequel and fix everything. Me don’t like that.” that couldn’t be all the explanation he would get, thought Peter, and reminded in silence waiting for more. Luckily, our antiheroe didn’t disappoint him. 

“I’ve been around maybe… for two years? I don’t know, it’s like following a show that gets everytime cooler and cooler! and I never thought about saying anything because, you know, you never needed me. Well, never that much.”

“Never that much?” Insisted Spiderman. 

“Yeah. I mean, do you remember last week when a microwave fell from a fifth floor and stopped one of those awful mobs of taking you? They were so many of them, your spidey sense might have gone crazy. But you beated all of them up!”

“You throw the microwave? it wasn’t a lucky accident?” When he thought the situation couldn’t get more surrealistic and stupid, the microwave thing showed up. 

“Yep, that was me.” he said proudly, hitting his chest with a fist. 

“So, during two years you have been putting and eye on me.” He was so surprised. Couldn’t think about what the hell that could mean.

“Don’t take it bad, darling. I am your best fan. Didn’t want to interfere too much. Maybe one day we can team up.”

“Why… why not. But I don’t understand why you kept in the shadows. I don’t bite. Next time just say hi. Or walk in the battle from the beginning.” Yes, he might be really surprised. This guy was strange, he might had a very unethical way of making a living, but at the same time he felt like a nice person willing to help. 

Deadpool was quiet, Spiderman didn’t know where his eyes were looking at behind that mask, but he seemed kind of lost in his reflexions. 

“Last night I killed those guys. All of them. I tell you because I know you don’t like that and that’s what I do and I don’t want those webs to be angry at me but I panicked last night and I just wanted to take you out of there and take you home and take care of you but now you probably hate me or you will change automatically your mind…” A river of unconnected sentences came flowing from the guy in front of him and Peter had a hard time trying to assimilate all of what he was saying. 

“Wait wait wait” tried to stop him Peter “Ok, it’s ok. Just don’t do it again. That wasn’t nice. I can understand. It was my fault anyways. I wasn’t on my best and I let those guys go to far on me.” Deadpool shutted up and turn to look to Peter. 

“I can stop doing it if i’m with you. But that's what I do. I kill people for living. Not anybody, it has to be really bad, but it’s killing anyways.”

Peter nodded. He wasn’t going to change that guy’s ideas or life today. Today at least, but maybe with time. If it had been a regular hitman, sure he would have been able to stop him and put him between bars, but that Deadpool just saved his life and Peter couldn’t be that ungrateful and anyways, what kind of prison would hold him? 

“So what happened last night? Are you in any trouble? Because those guys were weak, and sure they got you because of something bigger.I could kill anybody for you if you want. Charge free. Special treat for friends.”

From what Deadpool was offering for him he got a few different understandings. Had he just called him friend? Yeah. And the worse, he had realized that last night something weird happened. But no, of course he would never ask Deadpool no kill anybody. Anyways, If he knew Peter was his worst enemy at the time...

“No, it’s fine. Just don’t worry. Bad night, that’s all.” Peter tried to take al the possible importance out of it and just leave it like that. 

“As you say. So, next time I find you, can I get to say hi?” Spiderman could see the hope and excitement of that man through the red color of his mask. 

“Sure.” Why not? Maybe this could be a good friend anyways.” But I really have to go. Thanks again for everything. I will return the clothes to you next time.” and as he got up of the couch he noticed something “How will we meet? Do you know my usual spot after following me so long? Let's just meet there at midnight. I am usually there. Come any night.”

Of course Deadpool knew which roof was it. It was the library roof. 

People usually say that you can get to know someone just from the books this person reads. Deadpool wasn’t sure if he could believe that or not, and that’s why he started to follow the boy two years ago. At the beginning, the story he told Peter, was all true. Due to boredom, he had started following him. And because of that ass, but that’s something he wasn’t willing to confess, at least not yet. Then he saw him once reading. Wade was so curious, by nature, so he didn’t stop searching until he found the secret spot. Around more than ten erotical books -Spiderman’s books!- were hidden carefully. Of course, he had to read them all. 

Actually not. He didn’t have to. He already had before finding them. He realized that they shared a lot of literature tastes. He wasn’t a book person, but he was seriously in the BDSM like the motherfucker he was. And with his face, his looks, and his job, who the hell would ever surrender to him and feel taken care by him? So he had to find a way out. The same way out that Spidey had found: porn books, a lot of fluffy porn books. And porn fanfics, but that’s another story. 

He fantasized so much about caring about Spiderman. Be there for him, keep him safe and warm. But he was pretty sure he would never allow that to him, so that’s why he had been acting from the shadows. Deep in his heart, he felt connected, and Spiderman was his secret thing to look for, to care, to love in the most possessive way he could ever feel. And the boy was perfect. No boyfriends, no girlfriends, it was like he was being true to Deadpool even without knowing. This fantasy was perfect and he couldn’t risk to lose it. But he had had to, or his beloved secret little thing would have died. 

Once Spiderman left, he kept thinking about the last night. He had been following him a lot, and If Spidey had been in big problems he would have known. So, how possibly he let those robbers hit him so hard? Why was he panting desperately on the floor, not defending himself? Was his little everything getting suicidal? Filled with worry, he decided that from now on, he would be even closer. And thanks to chimichangas the tiny hero would allow it. If not, he didn’t know what he would have done. 

The days passed like usually in Peter’s Parker life. Classes, work and patrols. He hadn’t seen Deadpool again and he thought that maybe the man had been in a job. He was kind of expecting him every night, even unconsciously. One part of his mind kept questioning, was he maybe just stalking him from the shadows again? Waiting for him to get in trouble in order to go and help him? But he had more important issues to deal with. He had to find a Dom, and it wasn’t an easy task. 

The days that passed easily became weeks, and our beloved Peter continued without a dom. He knew that it wasn’t an easy task to find one, but it was being even harder than expected. He wrote a lot through forums in internet, chats, and once he even went to a BDSM club. But every guy he met was just the superficial kinki guy who wanted rough sex, and anything more. That wasn’t BDSM, and it seems that people didn’t know. He needed to accept that he was going to be alone quite a while more, so he returned to the old habits that once truly helped him a lot. He expended a lot of hours on that roof reading and reading again the Sleeping Beauty quartet and random badly shaped BDSM books. He tried to do one hour reading at least before go seriously after criminals, just in case his “sub needs” wanted to trig out, not to do it. But what he couldn’t suspect is that the reading hour… that reading hour, wasn’t helping him at all. Worse even, it was just making his need harder, building the desire calmly and silently in this heart. The lake, more than ever, was growing and growing, just expecting the perfect moment to inundate all of Peters mind. Of course, he would never be aware of that, until it were too late. 

Wade Wilson never stopped following Peter. Every night he could, he was there. And every night he was thinking “I can go and say Hi, it’s not hard to do, just to drop by and be at his side”. But he never did. His fantasy felt too real and he loved it too much. That fantasy where Peter was his and he was just taking care of him, enjoying the owning. If he went there and said “hi”, all of that would be over. The reality - Peter not being his- would smash him. The episode, weeks ago, when he had saved him, offered him food, clothes, and comfort, could match his personal reality perfectly, but saying “hi” and act like the “almost strangers” they actually were, would kill him. So there he was, watching from the window of an abandoned building how Peter was stopping a group of former drug dealers of accomplishing their transaction in a dark alley of New York. 

They were only three people. One of them ran off when Spiderman arrive, but he could catch him. He was completely webbed at a corner, not a threat anymore. The other two were supposed to be easy, and they were. When the second was webbed, only one remained struggling. Spiderman stood in front of him, very close, and said “If you behave and explain everything to the police, they can make a nice deal for you”. But all that the dealer answered was a punch all over Peter’s face. Deadpool could see it clearly. A punch. On the face. That was it. No super powers, no weird threats, no weird technology. A regular human punch. 

But it felt so good. Oh god that’s all what he needed and all of what he wanted. It felt so good that Spiderman just let his body fell on his knees. I still don’t know, dear readers, who was more astonished, if Deadpool or the criminal, to see Spiderman kneel like that over a simple punch. The drug dealer took Spiderman by the throat painfully and started punching him repeatedly all over. Deadpool felt his body become stone like an antique inmovil statue while he contemplated his beloved little owned thing being hit like that. He reacted in what it felt like ages and he appeared in a jump into the crime scene. Gun on hand, he pointed to the guy. 

“Leave the spider alone” His voice was deep, dark and powerful, and the drug dealer payed attention even before he realized that that masked man standing there was Deadpool. He took his hands out of Spiderman in fear, and the little hero felt on the floor like he was out of his mind, like he was just having a bad dream. And you and me, dear reader, dear companion, know the truth that anyone else knew: where Peter actually was. 

Wade was about to pull the trigger when he remembered how disappointed his little thing would be if he did that. So he jumped on the guy and knocked him unconscious. Anyway, the police would be there any time. He bent over Peter like the first time, and took him into his arms like a fainted princess.

“Hey Spidey, daddy Deadpool is here to take care of you” he whispered, sure that the hero wasn’t able to hear him. But Spiderman moved, making his position more comfortable and laying his head against Wade’s shoulder. He had just started feeling the lake, approaching, and suddenly everything stopped. He could see those seeked waters go away from him, and anxiety started to take control of his soul. He needed the waves, he needed the lake, he needed the pain.

“More…” he begged, with a weak voice. 

Deadpool, who had started to walk to his apartment, stood in his position, still. “What did you say? It’s ok, you are safe now”. 

“No…” insisted Peter, not sure who he was talking to “more, please. I need more.” And his hands grabbed with strength Deadpool’s suit on his chest, and he tried to hit his head against the solid and musculated shoulder searching for pain where minutes ago he had posed his forehead. Deadpool beared all of Spiderman’s weight in one arm and lead his free hand to Peter’s face, trying to stop him of hurting himself even more.

“Wait, wait, what are you doing… Stop, please. Let's go home, you will get better, I promise.” Deadpool didn’t understand a shit. Any of it. Had his spider gone crazy? At least he listened and stood still all the remaining way until home. 

This time Deadpool felt confident enough to change Spiderman’s clothes. He never touched his mask, though, but he dressed him with a very nice and warm pyjamas. Our hero was between asleep and unconscious, not sure knowing even him where he was, but Wade was pretty sure about what the young Spider needed: to get a nice rest. He changed him in a very clinical and professional way, not wanting to enjoy this due to circumstances. Anyways, he couldn’t avoid feeling surprised and discovering himself admiring that hurted body who was lying helplessly on this bed. 

Peter Parker was in some point between the lake and the reality, and he really didn’t want to come back, not just yet. He remembered he didn’t have a dom, and whoever pushed him into the lake must have been a no one. He knew that again, eventually, would have to face reality, but please, please, not just yet. As he was struggling against the full consciousness that was threatening him like a timing bomb, he felt two strong and warm arms leaving him on a soft surface. Those arms started to undress him, caressing him shyly and putting on him some other clothes. Then one hand was on his head, on his mask, touching him with the smell of goodbye. Deadpool was going to sleep to the couch. Or that was the plan, until Spiderman grabbed his hand almost desperately, and with a very low and childish voice begged again “please…” and dragged his body closer to his arm. Wade knew this was a dangerous move. What if he stood next to him, on the bed, comforting him? What if next day Spiderman would freak out and hate him? But even without looking at his face who was hidden under the mask he could feel the abandonedness, the surrender, the need in Peter’s heart of his touch. He needed to feel safe, and Deadpool couldn’t disappoint him. He carefully went away of the willing body and took his suit off, leaving the mask on. He put on some pyjamas too - he would have loved to be naked, but that would have been too much for Spidey, too much for himself- and came back to the bed. Peter felt the weight of the body and moved instinctively closer. Wade passed an arm under Spiderman’s head and he just laid on his side, facing Deadpool… or better said, hiding his entire body in Deadpool’s chest. Wade passed the second arm around the rest of that little body who seemed to need him so desperately, and hug him until both of them were truly asleep. This was his personal and deepest dream come true. All what he always wanted, to take care of Spiderman, was happening. Of course he would have prefered this happening in other circumstances, but anyways he could never feel more fulfilled. Now he could be there for him, making him fel better. Spidey was warm, helpless, trembling almost imperceptibly against him. How old would he be? He just felt like a child. A child Wade swore in that very moment to protect until his last forces would fail.

But as best dreams, it ended when they woke up. Or that’s what Deadpool expected. Peter was the first who opened his eyes. In the beginning, he only felt a very familiar scent. And a body hugging him. And his mask on. And a bed he already knew. And so, so perfect arms surrounding him. Deadpool woke up when he felt the body against him getting tense. He prefered not to move, not to say anything. Leave Spiderman decide the way the events would go. Would he freak out? Would he just be ok with this? He didn’t know. He didn’t wanted to know. 

Very slowly, that cute masked head separated from him enough to look at Wade’s face. Well, to Deadpool’s mask. He pretended to be asleep, wondering in fear what would be Spiderman’s reaction. And what a lovely surprise when he listened the other man sight and come back to the original position, between his arms and against his chest. Would this be real? 

When Peter saw to whom belonged that body, a big weigh fell from his shoulders. He could relax, he was save. This man had saved him once, and judging by their position, full clothed and sleeping together, he suspected he had saved him again. He felt ashamed, but at the same time, relieved. For sure this could became an habit, but he needed to learn how to stay safe by his own. And then he realized something. Would Deadpool be bothered? Having to save him like this, having to take care of him until this point. He really had expected to see him again, but not under this circumstances. After the day when Deadpool saved him the first time, he thought that maybe they could become friends, but after this, who would like to be friends with a person who needed to be saved all the time? And not saved from any danger, but from himself! That was even worse, thought Peter, as he curled his body pressing it against Deadpool’s without noticing. 

Feeling Spiderman’s body moving, willing to get closer to him, he felt enough courage to hug him tighter, letting him know that he wasn’t asleep either. 

“Hey little Spider, are you okay?” Wade asked, almost without voice. 

“Yes” whispered Peter, against him. He could feel the warm breath of the hero. 

“Do you know who I am, where are you?” He needed to ask, to be sure. 

“I know, and” Peter filled his lungs with air “I’m sorry that…”

“Sssht” cutted him Deadpool, “not now, don’t worry. I’m here, everything’s ok” Peter moaned like a hurt animal “You are safe” insisted Deadpool, as he ran a hand through his back, caressing him, pressing all of himself even closer. 

If he just knew what he had triggered in Peter’s Parker heart with those words. But how could he, if even Peter wasn’t able either to realize it? or at least by now… 

They stood like that, feeling each other warm and breathing, god knows for how long. At some point Peter pulled his head out of what had become his favourite hiding place, and looked at Deadpool’s face. 

“I’m okay, really. I’m just so sorry. Last night…”

“A bad night again?” interrupted Deadpool, for the second time in that morning. A bad night. Was it? Peter knew it hadn’t been a bad night. Did Deadpool? If he didn’t, should Peter lie to him? Why? If Deadpool was going to be his new friend, he could know. And if the truth was too disgusting for him, well, he could always just go away and live him alone, again. It was terrifying, but worse was lying to neither of themselves. 

“No, it was not a bad night.” he could read the confusion on Wade’s face through the mask. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, lucky you, I am completely free today” and Wade laughed weakly and lovely, half sad half touched. His little thing would tell him what was bothering him, and for sure he would be able to help. 

He was going to be able to help, of course, but he just wouldn’t imagine how. 

“ Let’s make some coffee, some eggs, and you tell me all of it, what do you think?” Peter nodded, it sounded fair. “I just I hope you don’t mind I changed your clothes. Didn’t touch the mask though. And bonus plus, I didn’t kill anybody last night. Promise.” He said that last part while Peter was slowly getting out of his hugging fluffy and warm cage. Our hero stopped on place, looking down. Yeah, he didn’t put those pyjamas on himself. He flushed behind the mask, and looking to the floor he answered “No, uh, I don’t mind. Thanks for it. And….” he thought how he could say it thanks for not killing anyone. 

“It’s nothing Peter… anything for my beloved little bug” By now, Spiderman had noticed that Wade spoke in a very strange, sort of direct and hitting way, but in that particular sentence he could read some seriousness that made his legs loose a little. 

They didn’t say anything else until they were sat on the living room’s coffee table, with two coffees in front of them that looked like salvation to their exaustness. Wade was waiting patiently to the other to talk, he didn’t wanted to press him. And Peter started to think that maybe this hadn’t been a good idea at all and that he should have lied to him. But lying wasn’t his style, and now he was going to tell to this man that he was a very sick masochist, and a pleaser.


	3. Spirit, Stallion of the Cimarron

Our good superhero took a sorb from the coffee, a lot of air in his chest, and tried not to look to Wade in the eye. 

“Have you ever had any addiction?” He started, thinking that maybe this way would be an easy one to explain what was happening to him.

"Oh, so many of them, little thing." 

"And how do you control them?" insisted Peter. 

"Easy. I don’t." that was kind of the answer Peter expected. 

"Then imagine you are addicted to something you cannot get. Wouldn’t you drown crazy? Well, that’s what’s happening to me, I’m drowning crazy." 

Deadpool was listening to Peter carefully. Then, he remained silent, like he was searching for the words to continue, and Wade could think calmly about the whole situation. He knew about the books, he knew about the bank, and he knew about the drug dealers. But according to Peter, he only knew about this last two things, and he was playing in advantage. A lot of people thought that Wade was stupid, but he wasn’t. He saw the way Peter had reacted the passed night, needing him, needing protection, needing somebody to take care of him like it was some kind of aftercare after what happened in- wait a sec. The beating. After the beating. That was it. 

Peter couldn’t continue his explanation. He was freezed, trying to put some order in this head. He had started, he couldn’t leave the topic half explained. But Deadpool had already understood everything. It made sense. Peter couldn’t help it, he was seeking pain, and he didn’t mind where he could get it. Or did he? When Deadpool had picked him up, Peter was behaving like he didn’t know where he was, what was happening. Maybe it was like he was saying, Spiderman was drowning crazy of need.   
The silence had invaded the room, and soon Deadpool found himself comforting Spiderman.

“You don’t need to tell” Peter looked at him. He was afraid. He couldn’t continue. “Everybody has their own shit to work out. I don’t judge you. Anyways, if anything happens again I will be around. But please, Spidey, try to stay safe. Safer.” 

He could just tell Spidey, “ I know, I know everything. If you want, I could be there for you, in these scary desires, in these darks needs. I could give you what you seek, what you want and you so desperately are running away from. And I would never, never, put you in real danger, I would never really hurt you. And I would just help you so much after it. I would take care of you. Have you. Own you. Love you.” 

But he wasn’t able to pronounce those words, to confess those feelings. 

Peter sighed deeply. “It’s just, sometimes I lose my head while I’m fighting”. It was closer to the truth, at least, and he didn’t feel able to tell more. 

“I can see.” Nodded Wade. “ I have an idea, Spideyboy. What if we patrol together every time?” For the first time in the conversation, Peter looked at him. “ I mean, don’t get into fights without me around” actually it was not a “simple idea”, Deadpool was kind of asking him not-to-do-it without him. Peter’s first reaction was a sincere happiness, contemplating the situation of being around his saviour, all the time. But after that childish moment, he fell on the reality. That man thought he needed a babysitter. To be saved all the time, to be looked after. Embarrassment, again. Didn’t this man have better things to do rather to take care of a chronical masochist putting himself in danger again and again? 

“I could just stop patrolling, for a while.” Peter whispered, thinking that maybe that was the best option, the more mature option. 

“Don’t. And all the people who won't be saved if you do that?” Wade had a point, but anyways in his situation, Spiderman was complete useless. 

“Really, let’s do it both of us. I don’t have any jobs coming up”. The mercenary looked so excited about the idea, and if this wasn’t going to be like a boring job to him, why keep denying?

“Okay, but I’m so sorry you have to do this. I mean. If I am not able to do by duties alone, I can stop. Really.” Peter was half convinced, Wade could smell it. 

“I don’t have to. I want to”. And the solemnity behind those words was like a bullet to Peter’s cheeks, that blushed significantly getting the same colour that the mask above them. 

“Ok” he let go the word like a last breath of an agonizing body, not sure where all of this would lead. 

Wade knew this was going to be so painful for him. Of course he wanted to keep in his fantasy, to keep thinking that Peter was his. He didn’t want to get closer to him because that meant two things: he would have to hold back, like, all the time, and if Peter really got to know him, for sure he was going to reject that cruel mercenary with a monstrous face and even more diabolic soul… that demon inside of him that wanted to destroy the little and fragil Spiderman just to take care of the pieces that would rest of him after it. 

But he couldn’t risk to get his little favourite thing hurt. Really hurt. By a nobody. The simple idea made his blood boil in anger and possessiveness. And from the shadows he was too far away from him to help him instantly. So there was no other way. They would team up from now on. 

And oh boy, they were a great team. Peter had never thought that working with Deadpool would be so fun, so enthusiastic. It made waiting the crime far more entertaining, and the infinite bad jokes Wade knew were every time getting more and more hilarious. The only thing was that with Wade by his side, he couldn’t have that reading hour that he was so used to have. Before, it was kind like a need. He needed to drown himself on the feelings in his characters, so he could feel his own hunger more or less controlled (even if it had been proved not to be very effective). But having Deadpool around, felt kind of like it. Like reading his books. This man felt like safety. Like protection, like “safe zone”. Every day they were together, Peter could feel how the fantasy of being his was growing more and more. When he was alone, in his bedroom after an incredible night of patrols and stopping crime, he could find himself picturing again and again, that night when Deadpool saved him, embracing him in his bed. Peter remembered melting between his warm and solid arms, just letting it be, surrendering without even being conscious about it. He wanted it to happen again, but, how would he possibly ask something like that? Like, showing up, and saying “hi, I want you to own me, I want you to hurt me and then hug me, what about a nice dinner and then we do that?” Because Wade wasn’t some sick bastard like him from a forum or a BDSM club. Deadpool was becoming his friend, his companion. And that was something he wasn’t willing to risk. 

And then the big fight happened. They had been following the moves of the two principal mob families of the zone. Something awful was going on, and they were suspicious it would end up in a war between those families. They weren’t wrong. The worse thing though, it was that the war didn’t start in a warehouse or alleys, no. It was happening at plain sight, in the streets where innocent civilians were walking, outsiders of what the hell was going on. At least, Deadpool and Spiderman could show up on time. A group of thugs had cut the traffic and they were pointing all of their guns to a small business, that belonged to the other family’s territory. That was innocent people, but why would the mobs care, if it was everything about showing a point: they were stronger, and they deserved that part of the city too. 

Peter was contemplating the situation from a rooftop above the street. “So Deadpool, what’s the plan?”

“I could just go there and start shooting” answered, like that wasn’t a problem at all. 

“Wade…” started Peter. He would call him Wade when the thing was like really, really serious. 

“Yeah, I know, I know. No killing with my little favourite arachnid.” And Peter melted, as usually, with those cheesy nicknames Wade used to call him. But he was never going to let him notice. Or that’s what he thought. 

So the plan finally was that Spiderman would try to web all the guns while Deadpool would show up and start beating them, causing a distraction and preventing the mobs from hurting the civilians. If Peter wasn’t fast enough, the worse thing that could happen is that they shooted Deadpool, who would almost automatically heal. Peter didn’t like that part of the plan, but Wade had insisted a lot. Was he a masochist too or what? But that was the best way they could manage to improvise in so short time. 

So Spiderman shooted his webs from the highs to the first two guns, pulling them away from their owners, while Deadpool jumped between the little shop and the group of criminals. After the surprised first impression, those guys reacted trying to reach Deadpool with their bullets, not sure who had webbed their companions and where that second menace would be. Wade moved fast and ran to reduce a third guy, when Spiderman shooted more webs, taking the rest of the guns out of the picture. Then he jumped next to Deadpool. The last part of the plan was to web them all and wait for the police to finish everything. 

A normal and typical storm of fight began. Kicks, punches, everything. Peter was really careful not to get hit, because he was afraid how would he react, if he would be able to control himself, to help himself from falling into his particular lake again. He was so focussed in it that he couldn’t hear one guy approaching his back. He had thought it was over. He thought that the last of their enemies was being fighting Deadpool, and he had everything under control. He watched how Wade took him, finishing with the bad guy on the floor, under his boot. He felt jealous, envy from that. And then someone grabbed him, pushing his arm around his neck and a sharp jacknive against his jaw. 

“You!” Shouted the thug “Leave Johnny alone or I kill this shit right now” He was trembling nervous, convinced that he would do it, he would kill Spiderman even if it meant his own death. He was sick of these guys, always messing with them all the time. 

Deadpool jumped away from his last victim. Raised his arms “no need to do that, we were already leaving, weren’t we, Spiderman?” Peter couldn’t move, not an inch, and less even talk. 

Being held like that was something that Peter instinctively enjoyed, but having Wade in front of him made it even better, almost like it was Wade himself who were holding him, threatening him. He could feel the press of the knife against his skin, cutting the thin cloth of this suit. He started to feel aroused, not sure to understand what those men were shouting at each other. And like a familiar song, he heard the waves of his lake coming for him. And then he remembered. He had to fight it. He couldn’t swim there now. He needed to be out of the waters, he needed to beat those arms, that body. He couldn’t let Deadpool down now. 

Wade saw Spiderman completely still, almost relaxed, while that dangerous guy was holding him hostage. And he feared the worse. Was his spideyboy falling again, drowning, in that addiction he once tried to confess to him? He saw surprised how Spiderman’s schroth was growing between that man’s arms, and that was too much for Wade. The thin fabric revealed everything, and he really expected anybody else would notice, anybody else would know his little spider’s secret. He needed to help him now, no matter what, no matter how he felt. It was a too dangerous situation, he couldn’t allow his little thing to enjoy this. Anything else, whatever beat he would want, but not this particular situation. 

“Spiderman, Spiderman” he kept shouting from the distance, not being able to approach him with that knife pointing to his sweet Spider’s neck. “Fight it. You can fight it. Stay with me, in here, baby boy. Please. Don’t fall again.”

In his efforts to free himself from the lake that for the first time it was appearing like a menace, he could listen that voice… that voice he loved so much, calling him, encouraging him. He could do this. Not for him, but for Wade. Anything for Wade. 

Peter opened his eyes almost panting, not realizing he had them closed until that moment. He felt his own body burn with arousal and hunger, and started pushing all those feelings away the best he could in order to be able to fight. He tried to analyse the situation calmly. The guy was a mess, sweating and not knowing what to do, how to run away from them. They could hear sirens coming through the streets and that could be too inconvenient. He had to act fast. So he did. From his left arm that was down and relaxed, he through a solid web against the knife, making it children-proove. When the guy tried to stab him, that blade was useless, surrounded by a very fluffy almost cotton candy web. Then our hero turned and knocked him out with a single punch. That was it. Easy. He felt kind of dizzy. The lake was growling in the back of his heart, pulling away but still present. The floor seemed to dance under his feet, and he would had fallen if it wasn’t for that body, that known arms, that held him instantly. 

“Spiderman, are you ok?” It was a whisper, coming from his back. Deadpool was hugging him, not letting him fall to the ground. 

He tried to turn to face his friend, but he was too weak.”Yeah, I’m ok. Just… it’s too much” He said, not sure how to explain himself. 

“I know, baby boy. I understand” And everything felt okey, until he saw deadpool watching down. Dammed, Peter was still hard as rock. How was he going to explain that?

“I…-I” He tried. But a hard “ssshhht” stopped him. “I know. Don’t worry, let’s get out of here”. What? Thought Peter. What meant that? He “knew”? “knew” what, exactly? But he was right, they needed to get out of there, so he let Deadpool drag him down the street away from the crime scene. 

“Where are we going?” Peter managed to ask, feeling better at every minute, but still touched by the waters of his lake. “Dunnow” Said Deadpool, carefreely “Where do you wanna go? I drop you at your roof?” and what a surprise was for both of us when Peter just answered “To your place?” He did it without thinking. The last time he was feeling closer to how he was feeling at that moment they ended at Wade’s apartament. And there was like a really safe zone to “recover” from this “adiction”. But it might be selfish, he thought after asking for it, maybe Deadpool didn’t want to have to bring him there again, after all. He was going to add something, like “it’s not necessary, you can drop me at the roof and I will swing home, I feel better” when Deadpool said happily:

“It’s a great idea. We can make microwave popcorn and watch some films. I just got the flim Spirit, it’s amazing, about a horse that is wild and… oh Spidey, you’re gonna love it” And Peter never said what he was planning to. 

Yes, Wade was trying to be the old Wade that Spiderman knew. This new friend, funny and helpful. He tried to act like the last situation never happened, and as they walked, he could feel Spidey getting better and being able to walk by his own, without needing his stability. Anyways, he didn’t want to let Peter go, and Peter never did any movement to get far from him even when he realized too he could walk by his own. He enjoyed feeling Deadpool taking care of him, and he wanted it to last as long as possible.

Then they arrived home, entering through the window. To Peter, it felt too familiar, too right to be there, and Wade could notice that. Spiderman was especially happy. 

“You look so happy, baby boy. Are you excited about the film? It has such a great music, really” He sand while he went into the kitchen to get the popcorn ready. 

“Well, I was thinking about the fight before, we make a great team” He said from the living room, almost shouting.   
“Yeah we do.” Suddenly Wade was back, standing on the door. The music of popcorn popping playing from the other room. “You were awesome today” insisted, feeling proud that Peter could manage to get out of that particular “taboo” situation. 

Peter felt himself blushing hard, remembering how Deadpool noticed his erection and his hesitation back there. “At the end, I could.” he whispered. 

“Yes, you did. I’m so proud. You have more self control than you believe”. And in that moment he could painfully realize he had screw it up good. “I mean, uh…” and the ring of the microwave popped, so he ran away to the kitchen. Saved by the bell.

What did just happen? A blue screen appeared behind Peter’s eyes. Of course. Of course. Deadpool catching him, helping him stand, saying “I know, it’s okay”. So that was it. He knew. Oh my god. He knew it good. That was so bad. What would he think of him now? And before he could panic freely, Wade was there again, approaching to the couch to sit next to him with a big bowl of popcorn.

Then he saw Peter’s mask getting wet just under his eyes. “Are… are you crying?” He wouldn’t forgive himself if his words made poor spidey start dropping tears. 

“Am I?” whispered Peter, and he noticed. He was indeed. It was too much for him. Now Wade would kick him out, going away from him. He would lose that man that in his heart was his perfect owner, his perfect dom. And as he started trembling from the fear of that happening, Deadpool trapped him in his arms, again. Peter couldn’t believe that. 

“I’m here for you. Never doubt that”. Wade said lowly at his ear. And it was too much. Peter couldn’t help it. It was all or nothing. He jumped away from Wade. 

“How can you say that?” he cried. “You know, I know you know.” And in an outburst he took off his mask. “I’m disgusting” He kept shouting “Look at me, look at what I am!”

And all Wade could see was perfection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be uptading soon :) two, three days. Maybe in a few hours. I don't know. Im drowing in this story like Peter in his Lake. I wonder whose lake's is this story anyways... if Peter's, or mine ;)


	4. The Spring of the Lake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okey, here is the smut. 
> 
> WARNINGS: this is violent, with some blood, involving really sick feelings. This is not realistic BDSM. This is all fiction. Don't try it home.

He got up and walked to the hysteric Spiderman who was standing in the middle of his living room, breathing heavily and completely scared. Nailing his gaze into Peter's eyes,he took one of his gloves, slowly, and with the same calm he wiped one of the tears that was running endless through Peter’s cheek with his bear thumb, feeling his soft and wet skin. 

And oh boy, that was one amazing cheek. In a super amazing face. In a so beautiful expression, all grooved in pain. The boy was definitely younger than Deadpool had suspected. He had brown, deep eyes, that seemed to hold so many emotions, so many desires. His also brown, chocolated hair, completely messy due to the mask, was standing half sticked to the parts of his face that it could reach. This, along with the expression of his face, was the living visage of despair. Wade wished he could be the one who brought that sight on Spiderman’s face, and a tone of joy filled his heart when he realized that he had just done it. He had done that. But his Spidey was in pain, in a kind of pain he didn’t want to cause to him. 

“What’s your name, little thing” He ask with a low voice, with his hand still posed over the cheek of his little pet, his little everything. 

“Peter Parker” he answered to the question, with a thread voice that could be compared with the takeoff of a butterfly. Suddenly, all the shouting had been turned off.

“Well then, Peter Parker, as I said before, everything is okey. I am here for you. Do you understand it?” And Peter nodded slowly, as astonished as he had never been before in his entire life. Those white eyes from Deadpool’s mask, Wade’s mask, where going through him, landing at some place in his being he thought he had lost long time ago. 

Wade was as afraid as Peter was, but he couldn’t allow himself to show it, to feel it. Peter was standing in front of him as a freezed prey under the sight of the big bad wolf, and Wade started to understand how to read Peter, knowing that this sweet boy was surrendering to him. It was too charming not to fell, and he couldn’t help himself wanting to devour him, wanting him to know how bad he felt the desire too. But Wade knew, yeah, he knew a lot of things, and along with those things he also knew that if Peter ever saw him, ever got to know him really, he would run a way truly scared. Wade was too much to face in a lot of senses. It was going to hurt that moment, that imminent future (who knew if sooner or later) but he needed to take the chance he was being offered. He needed to take Peter Parker. 

“Take out my glove” and he offered Peter his left hand. Still trapped in Wade’s gaze, Peter obeyed, clumsily pulling off the black piece of leather. He touched the bare skin with the tip of his fingers, feeling the scars all over Wade’s hand. And he took it away from Peter’s touch too soon, to suddenly. His right hand was still on Peter’s jaw, in a very sweet and soft way. And from under his touch, Peter contemplated how Wade showed the lower part of his face, retiring the mask up until his nose. 

It wasn’t the first time Peter could see those scars. But it was the first time he felt so aroused by them. He felt Wade holding him, one hand at his jaw and the other one caressing through his hair, like he wanted to be sure Peter was real and not going to fade away like an illusion. All of a sudden, Wade’s grab became strong, firm, violent. And he started approaching his face to Peter’s slowly, giving him time to deny the promising encounter of their lips, if he didn’t want that to happen. Do you think Peter would use that precious time in anything else than wishing Wade would reach him faster? No, of course not. 

Deadpool licked Peter’s upper lip, teasing him. He opened his mouth as a response, sighing, begging. His breath smelled so good, though Wade, that he wanted to eat it all. He aspired all of the air coming out of Peter’s lungs, and in a quick move he bit the lower lip that was trembling because of his proximity. He sighed through his nose, sinking his teeth in the soft flesh of the insides of Peter mouth. Peter moaned as Wade reminded inmovil for what it felt like ages. Too soon, he started pulling his face away from the spider, dragging the pression of his bit all the way up until Peter’s lip ended. 

Wade leaned his forehead against Peter’s, both panting. And he heard a voice, a voice whose words were the most sweet and delicate music he ever heard. 

“Please…” whispered Peter, who knows where he got the strength to do that. “Please, hurt me”. 

Wade made a step away, still grabbing Peter. He wanted to ask “Are you sure, Baby boy? Will you tell me when you want me to stop?” But he saw how Peter was looking at him, and he understand that his baby boy wouldn’t answer anything, wouldn’t be able to ask him to stop if necessary. Anything. Wade was on his own, and he needed to decide for Peter, to know when to stop. His little him wasn’t there anymore. Or better said, he was more present than never had been before. Peter’s eyebrows were curved, almost joining on his forehead. His eyes, half closed, were the expression of abandonment. He seemed to keep whispering something, his lips shyly moving, no sound coming from them. 

Wade gently put a hand on Peter’s throat and start to close his fist, choking him slowly. He raised the hand that were sank on Peter’s hair and extended his arm, opening the fingers. The threat was clear, he was going to hit him in the face. A subtle smile could glimpse through Wade’s mask. His baby boy was so helpless, so scared… 

And Deadpool’s palm fell against that childish cheek still wet with tears. Peter would have fallen due to the strength of the impact if he hasn’t being held by the hand on his throat. Suddenly, the own weight of his body made that grip harder to bear. His legs had failed.   
Wade opened his hand, letting Peter bend over his knees in front of him. He was trying to comfort his neck with boths hands, hardly breathing. His eyes were almost shot, like hidden springs in the belly of a mysterious wood, running with calm and silent water. 

“Did you have enough?” asked Wade, affectionately, as he crouched to be at the same level as his honey pie’s face. Peter caught the hand that had just hit him between his, and leaded it to his face, just on the spot where his last touch hadn’t been so gentle. He rested the weight of his head on Wade’s opened palm. As if it were a seashell, Peter could hear the waves of his lake approaching through Wade’s warm. Yes, he was starting to sink peacefully, and for the first time in too long, he wasn’t drowning alone. Like the dead souls of Caronte’s boat, he was letting Wade guide him through the waters, floating, feeling, dying and reborning. He was dying for more. 

Wade understood. “Okay, sweet child, it’s okay” And Peter smiled with his lips, his eyes both filled with sorrow, and watched Wade carefully, expecting his next move. Of course he didn’t have enough. 

Before he stood up, Wade caressed the abused cheek. He caressed it before he kissed it, licking the skin that he was going to hit again. And again and again. From the height of his body upright, he looked at Peter, who was lifting up his face in a sincere invitation. So he slapped him. Fast, hard, cruel. And the sweet little boy fell back on the floor. The executioner waited, willing to see what would Peter do next. He gave him time to recover, and he watched surprised as the little spider stood again on his knees, not without effort, offering his cheek -now so red, so alive- to his sadistic being. Wade couldn’t wait. He wanted to break Peter, to make him cry harder, to rip him in so little pieces he would be the only one able to recompon him. So he did. This time, he raised his arm showing to Peter he back of his hand, warning him with no words. He didn't move. As all response, he just smiled a little, enough to show to Wade that that was a “yes please, yes harder”. So the hand fell. He felt it all over his face, like all that skin was burning, in so much pain, in so much deliciousness. The wave of the lake dragged him deeper and deeper, manipulating his body like a broken doll. 

This time he needed more than one minute to recover. He was lying on the floor, and with a soft move he touched his cheek, not sure if it would be there anymore. He stood on his left elbow and looked at Wade, who was standing in the same place, patiently waiting for him to come back. So he did. Dragging himself through the floor of the living room, he crossed the half meter that he last impact had sent him away, in Deadpool’s direction. He grabbed Wade’s legs to help himself, crawling on him, and raised his head to meet those eyes who where enjoying seeing him hurt like that, seeing him getting broken. 

Wade’s heart filled with regret when he saw what he had done. His sweet little everything’s lower lip was broken. A cut was crossing the perfect flesh, almost on the commissure, and tiny little threads of blood were running away over Peter’s chin, slowly, kindly, caressing him. Without moving, he touched the wound gently and show Peter the blood on his finger, not sure if his little thing would have notice dthat, and maybe he would like to stop now. And no, he was right, Peter hadn’t realized what the last slap had done to him. And when he saw the blood, his blood, on Wade’s finger, his heart jumped, creating a tsunami in his Lake. Yes, he thought. Only you, only you can do that. He wanted Wade to tear him apart, to do to him whatever he wanted, to show him through pain how much he belonged to him. So he extended his tongue and started licking, sucking that delicious red promise from his owner’s finger. 

That was too much for Wade Wilson. He had only one thought: don’t make any permanent injury, don’t kill him. Because now we know, dear reader, dear characters, that Peter was offering his body, his mind, his soul, his safety, no matters what. If Wade wanted to kill him like this, he would have been happy to die. Such was his surrender. So Deadpool, as strong as big as he was, raised Peter from the floor grabbing him by the throat, choking him painfully, and held the little thing’s weigh with his other arm. Too soon, he stopped prohibiting the air to reach Peter’s lungs and let him recover a little, resting against his chest, Peter’s legs useless. 

“Please, tell me that you are okey” Whispered wade, in a suddenly warm and filled with love voice that nothing had to do with the cruelty of his actions. The words arrived like an echo quietly vibrating on the surface of Peter’s waves. He tried to answer, he really tried to put in words what he was feeling, what he was wanting so desperately, but all his voice was able to articulate were this inaccurate cries: “I’m….ye...s- ok…”. Wade waited, expecting. When Peter realized that the fountain of his everything needed something else, he kept trying. “More... “ that’s all he could whisper, before he closed his eyes abandoning himself. He wanted to feel more that he has his, he wanted him to reach all parts of his body, of parts of his feelings. And Peter hugged that body that was sustaining him, loving him in the best way Peter could ever conceive. 

Wade felt that, and a lot more. He felt Peter’s arousal. He felt his body, trembling with pleasure and desire and pain, pain that was nothing more than desire, desire, desire. Oh boy. He wanted more? Everything? He was no one to deny Peter’s wishes. He lifted him like a death weigh, living him on the couch, and he started to caress Spiderman’s body through the suit. 

And Peter realized, that loving touches were the true torture. No, he didn’t want Deadpool to be delicate with him, to be soft, gentle. He needed those hands hitting him in the worst way possible. And he started crying and moaning hardly than he was being beaten. Wade knew it, understood it. 

“You want me to hurt you… you want me to mistreat you, to abuse you… and all you are getting is love” Peter tried to speak, to beg, but he couldn’t “Aren’t you suffering more than before, little thing?” And he nodded, he nodded badly all we could move “than before when I slapped your face, cutting your lip, making you bleed. You want me to do that again?” And Peter kept nodding, begging with no words, as Wade’s hands flew calmly all over Peter’s body. He touched his arms, his chest… all the way down to his crotch. Peter’s member was hard behind the spandex, and a wet stain could be visible where the tip of the penis was. He started masturbating Peter so gently, like he was a virgin, with the fabric between both man’s skins. With his other hand he started to tease one of Spiderman’s nipples, stopping the pressure when it looked like he was going to pinch it hard. This was hell, thought Peter. And he kept crying, every time more quietly, his sorrowed voice dying from the effort. He felt so shattered from his position, and still, it wasn’t enough. He knew, both did, that it would never be enough. 

Suddenly, Wade teared Spiderman’s suit apart. From the neck of the shirt until his crotch. The looks were amazing. Peter’s body was very beautifully built, being able to see his muscles and also looking so helpless and weak like a porcelain doll. He went to lick the neck, both hands sinking in the suit, caressing Peter’s back. He wanted to torture him a little bit more, giving him love instead of pain, knowing that between them, those concepts were inverted. If he wanted to hurt his spider badly, he had to kiss him, gently, melting. 

“Please…” the music, again. “Stop…” Peter, Peter was begging. 

“You want me to stop? Are you sure?” Answered Wade without detaching his lips from the soft skin of Peter’s chest. And as all response, Peter started to scrub against Wade’s body, making clear what he wanted. 

“If you want me to stop hurting you, then that’s it”. And he slapped him, painfully, on his left, still untouched cheek. And Peter sighed of pleasure. “Do you want more of my love? More cuddles, more gently touches?” And Peter nodded in despair, knowing that what Wade was referring to were the hits, the slaps, the choking. He wanted that. Kisses hurted, and punches were liberating, were pleasure. 

So Wade stopped teasing him and started to do what he had been dreaming about for too long. He opened his zipper and let out a monstrous cock, thick and painfully aroused. He started touching himself.

“I will fuck you Pety pie… I will open your legs, put my cock in here” And he touched roughly with two fingers, Peter’s entrance “ and I will thrust again and again, with no lube or anything, just to make you cry and cry. You are so beautiful when you enjoy my pain. I want you to remember you belong to me every day during the whole week, until I catch you and I rape you again so you can keep remembering that you are only and only fucking mine… do you understand?” and he entered one of his fingers into Peter without warning, who screamed weakly. He had his eyes opened but he couldn’t see anything. He didn’t want to come just for that words, just for that inconsiderate touch, but it was so difficult to hold on. 

Deadpool kept masturbating him faster, entering a second finger. Not because he was worried if his dick would hurt the boy, but he didn’t wanted to hurt himself trying to get that piece of meat inside that ass neither. Anyways, he had to stretch Peter a little bit or it wouldn’t fit. He was no longer touching any part of Peter’s body more than his abused and already resented anus. And Peter was enjoying as ever. His face was getting more and more red, his breathing more chaotic, and Wade could see a little bit of blood peeking between his fingers. The walls of Peter’s insides trembled harder, and Wade could understand that Peter was getting closer and closer to the climax only with his punishing fingers. 

“Yes little boy…” said Wade, speaking with that tender voice, that voice that seemed to say that everything was okey, like he wasn’t hurting him, like he was only wishing him good dreams after a busy and stressful day “come for me, come all over you now... so when I fuck you truly, you will only feel how I break all of your insides, marking you, claiming you. I don’t want you to enjoy it… I want you to bear it… because you are mine”. And with those last words, Peter came on his belly, feeling the warm of his come all over himself. He opened his mouth like he was going to scream, but a silent cry was all that could get away from his soul. 

It was the most delightful thing that Wade could ever imagine. Now Peter was a doll. Now he was broken. Now he was dying for him. He touched Peter’s face, gently, and put a quiet and chaste kiss on his lips. He thought that was it. Of course he wasn’t going to rape Peter like that, he didn't want to do that to him even If he was always fantasizing so bad about it. Enough was already the blood he had seen on his little thing’s entrance due to his rough fingering. So he pulled them gently out of Peter’s body, getting ready to start the aftercare, even if he was hard as rock. That could wait, or even never happen, and he would still feel as happy as he was. 

After a few minutes, while he was petting Peter’s hair waiting him to return to himself eventually, he finally heard a whisper “Aren’t…. aren’t you going to fuck me?” 

“Are you crazy?” That’s all Wade could say. “Can’t do that, it would hurt you too badly”. 

“But… but I want you to do it” Wade denied again, and Peter triet to stand on his elbows, looking at him more intensely “If you don’t, what’s the point? No, no, I can’t be the one coming and you backing up” Wade couldn’t answer, he was so surprised of the sudden anxiety painted all over Peter’s face. “If anything, it should be otherwise, you should get pleasure of me, you should use me. Please, don’t make this to me” And Peter started crying, feeling the more useless shit in the universe, because his owner was rejecting him. What had Peter done bad? What did he had to do that he didn’t realize already? 

Wade couldn’t get out of his stupor. Was Peter really, like really, this kind of masochist, this kind of submissive slave? He was feeling bad because he didn’t want to hurt him like that? He needed to help him, to make that awfull feelings that were trapping his Peter go away. 

“What do you want me to do?” asked Wade, tiredly, against Peter ear while he was hugging him. “I want you to rape me” He answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the universe. Those words went directly to Wade’s cock, but he still managed to speak out something.

“It’s not rape if you ask for ti” Teased him. 

“Oh, c’mon. You know what I mean” Peter insisted, still covered with his own sperm. His voice was weak because all what happened, of course, but the conviction behind his words was unbreakable.

“Okey, but let me stretch you before. Do you have any lube?”

“No. I mean, I have, but I don’t want you to use it”. He begged, looking directly to Wade’s eyes. He was dying of desire, he wanted to do it so bad, but he was full of hesitation. 

“Please, please please… “ repeated his little everything like a mantra “ as you said, I don’t want to enjoy it, not at least physically. I want it to hurt a lot, and I want to bear it, to stand all of it willingly... because i’m yours. Ain’t I?” And that was it. That was too much. If Peter didn’t know where he was getting to it was already too late. He had said the magic words. He had triggered the monster. He wanted the sadistic and dominant Wade all for him? with no limits? He was going to have it. 

Without saying any other word, Deadpool manhandled him and pressed his head against the soft surface of the couch, and raised his ass placing his knees in a ninety degrees angle. “Don’t move” he growled, with a dark tone, and started unzipping his pants to free again -and this time for a good reason- his big and threatening monster cock. 

He saw some dark stains, some dried blood on Peter’s anus, and he could only think that maybe the wound would open again, and at least the boy would have something to lube himself instead of suffering like that not only in his entrance, but in the all length of his cock. So he did it. He planted his hands in both cheeks of Peter’s ass, helping himself to place the head of his dick on his boy’s ass. Once he found the spot, he grabbed him from the shoulders, ready to start forcing with his dick all the way up to Peter’s insides. 

“Are you ready?” The most human part of himself forced him to ask that out loud. 

“Please… use me” So yeah, he was ready. He had been ready for too long. 

Wade started to push hard but slowly, feeling the flesh open and being hurt in his dick’s path, without stopping until he noticed Peters but against his belly. Pete had been quiet, only crying silently, hiding his face in the couch. Wade stopped there, waiting, feeling, thinking. This felt so much like an actual rape. Peter’s cock was completely soft, and he could feel the warm touch of fresh blood on his dick. But he had begged for it. He wasn’t asking him to stop, he really wanted that. 

And Wade would have been lying if he had tried to convince himself that he didn’t wanted that to happen either. He was enjoying it so much that he was almost feeling guilty. Yes, he had the face of a monster, and he was, indeed, a monster. 

He just didn’t know that for Peter, he was the most delicious saviour he could have ever asked for. Yes, he was bleeding, he could feel that. And yes, it hurt like a demon, sharply and merciless. But he also could feel that hard cock, completely excited, thrusting patiently in his insides, getting pleasure of his pain, and he couldn’t be happier to be that useful, he couldn’t be happier to able to please that man, to offer himself like that to him. In every push, every thrust, he could hear that echo of wet waves singing in his mind “I'm his… i’m his… i’m his…” And the pride and joy that filled his heart were priceless. Too soon, he could feel the thrusts getting faster, that cock trembling, almost arriving to the climax of orgasm, and all he wished was to have a dildo or a plug or something to be able to hold that cum inside of him, along with his blood, mixing… the pleasure of his owner entering his veins through the opened wounds, possessing him, becoming him. God, he wanted to be Wade’s so bad, so completely. 

And Wade came, sinking his nails into Peter’s shoulders, trying to push even further his cock into that precious but, into Peter’s abused and hurting insides. 

He waited until his cock got softer to get it out of Peter. That body was having pain spasms, so badly, that he started to be truly worried he had gone to far. Peter was too quiet, not saying anything. He slowly touched Peter’s back, calling him. “Peter… my little everything, my sweet boy”. And all what the sweet everything could say back was a simple moan with a broken voice. 

“You did so well, you pleased me so much… I enjoyed yourself, your surrender… would you come back to me?” And instead of feeling the waters of the lake trying to hold him there forever as he had felt with the robbers or with the drug dealer, those waves brought him to the surface, closer to Wade, the spring who was the origin of his so beloved lake. 

He was such a mess, a beautiful and angelical mess, thought Wade, as he pulled the almost unconscious body, lifting him on his arms like a slept princess. 

“Can you hear me, baby boy? I will bring you to my bed, I will hug you forever, you can be safe in my arms” And Peter tried to get closer to that strong chest who was offering him protection. The familiar touch of Wade’s bed inundated his body, and his owner lied next to him, embracing all of himself, physically and emotionally, hiding Peter from the world between his arms. He was his, at least, he was his. That was all Peter could think while he felt Wade’s cum crawling out of himself, Wade’s arms claiming him, Wade’s breath on his hair, Wade’s heart against his face. Seeking comfort in the body that just moments ago was abusing him, hurting him so bad, and knowing that he would be safe, he would be saved, fulfilled his soul. That was his place, his destiny. Be Wade Wilson’s slave, Wade Wilson’s toy, Wade Wilson’s little everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, never do anything like this without a safe word, please. 
> 
> By the way, this is my first time writing smut, I mean, porn, so I'm not sure if it's ok. Also, english is not my first language XD and all the vocabulary I have used in this fic has come from reading fanfics and our good old google translate. 
> 
> I don't know if I will be doing a very long story, but from now on I will put one of my sick kinks in every chapter. As always, at the beginning I will put a WARNING note. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this as much as I do :D


	5. Breakfasting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut and fluff.

He felt something soft and warm touch his forehead as he was going to disintegrate at any moment. He aspired a lot of air, kind of waking up, and felt the smell of Wade’s body, Wade’s breath. Yeah… he was where he belonged. 

Wade woke up first again, or that’s what he thought. His little everything was lying pressed against him like his touch were essential to keep him alive. Maybe it was, who knows. He hugged the warm and needy body closer to him and a deep moan escaped from Peter’s lips. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Asked, mouth whispering against Spidey’s forehead. 

“It hurts” 

“Of course it hurts. Do you remember what you asked me to do?” Wade doubted a moment, before adding “What I did to you?” It’s very true that his sweetest cotton candy had asked for that very insistently, very aware of his own will and consent - you can check chapter four if you don’t believe- but anyways it was pretty rough, and cruel, and mean, and hurtful, and one thousand more awful adjectives that Wade was thinking but your spanish author doesn’t know in english to write them in this story. 

“Yeah” the air run over his lips like a sigh. “It was amazing” said that fucked up masochist, curling on Deadpool’s chest like a just ex-virgin waking up after a wedding night. 

“Amazing? you really liked that?” Deadpool tried to look to his thing in the eye but he was too sticked to his chest. 

“A lot, we should do it more. I want to be yours… so bad” And Peter tried to reach Deadpools waist with his waist, scrubbing the hardness of his schroth against the merc. Seeing that his Master didn’t respond, he asked, insecure “you didn’t like it?” And raise his head, willing to see his Owner’s face, but only facing the mask. 

“it’s not that. I…” How was he supposed to say that he enjoyed it, that he enjoyed hurting him deeply? One thing was fantasize, read crazy porn stories, and another thing very different was really really, like actually hurt his poor-everything-all-the-world-chimichangas-little-Petey-pie. 

“You didn’t like it” Cuted Peter, completely ashamed. He made Deadpool do something he didn’t enjoy. Really? What the hell. He started to feel horrible, like the rapist had been him the whole time. “I made you do it, I’m so sorry..”

“Don’t ! “ Screamed Wade, all of a sudden. “Don’t you dare apologize. I fucking enjoy it, and that’s what it worries me.”

“Why? I enjoyed it too” How was possibly all of that be so simple to Peter? 

“I don’t want to really hurt you. And now you are sore and bad and hurted and it’s all my fault. I only wanted to protect you and look what I did to you” And he caressed gently the purple cheek on Peters face. 

“Healing factor. Twenty four hours” 

“What?”

“You remember? I’m Spiderman. I’m gonna be fine in twenty four hours. After you can destroy me again, and again, and it has no end. Look, I started to be like this when I got my powers. Who knows if it’s related, but imagine…”

Wade waited the dramatic pause, without daring himself to say anything.

“... Imagine a masochist with a healing factor. It’s the best party you could sign up for”. 

And both of them started laughing at the bad joke the spider had made. 

“You promise me?” Insisted Wade

“I don’t have too. I’m stronger than you. If I ever want to kick you out of me, I will” neither of them believed the last part of the sentence, but it made it up for now. He hadn’t kick out the robbers or any other threat before.

“okay. I trust you Peter…”

“And I can’t keep seeing those lips moving without kissing them” And the naked Peter kissed the suited merc in a very slow and sweet kiss that in an other context would have been only that, all full of love and acceptance, but it quick escalated in a destruction, aniquilacion, of Peters lips, having as a mayor protagonist, Wade’s teeth. 

“Never let me go, Wade” 

“I won’t, I don’t have to. We can die here and eat each others corpses” Peter laughed at the idea and searched his perfect posture between Wade’s muscles. 

“Oh, God, I wish I truly were and Omega” he sighed to himself, verbalizing the travel of his thoughts. 

“A what?” 

“Nothing. I only wish I could need you as physically as I need you emotionally. I wish it would actually hurt my guts not to be touching you all the time”. 

“Well… it won’t be any difference, because I’m going to be there, touching you, all the time” He bit Peter’s neck, softly. “ I might even just stitch ourselves together. That would be awesome” 

And they kept like that until midday, boths sank in each other’s respective dream, knowing that anybody in this world was stopping them of bringing into reality his most darkest and obscures fantasies, feeling accepted by the other. 

Peter’s stomach was the first -and the only one- to complain about their happiness.

“It might be time we get out of bed and eat something” murmured Wade against Peter’s hair while the youngest had his face completely buried in his neck. 

“Yes please, I’m so hungry right now…” and our too-sadistic-awesome-character-who-felt-guilty-of-his-sadism didn’t catch the second and true meaning of Peter’s words. 

“Can you move? How bad are you? Don’t lie to me. I can carry you.”

“I'm better” lied Peer, making a mental note of letting know later to his Master how sore he was and how much he was enjoying it. He was starting to understand that Wade hadn’t fully accepted yet that he liked to cause him pain. “But I don’t want to get out of bed yet. I can eat here…” he added, trying to make his tone clear. 

But Deadpool, the automatic charming prince who was thinking only about taking care of his little everything and provide for him, had only one possible answer on mind “Okey Petey pie, don’t worry, I will bring the food here” And as he started to raise his body from the bed, some hand grabbed his suit by the wrist like a scared infant at his very first day of school. “Don’t leave. You can feed me here… You are all the food I need”. And now Wade got it. 

“Are you serious? Come on. After last night?” Peter paled in front of that words. Wade had said them with disbelief all over, like he was surprised and disgusted by Peter’s behaviour. 

“I just, I thought that…” But he didn’t know how to react, what to say to fix it. And Wade rested silent, motionless, expecting something but not knowing what exactly. Our brave Spider took a deep breath and put his own thoughts in some kind of erratic order. He couldn’t be apologizing all the time for being like this. This is what he was. This is what he wanted. And he was pretty sure Deadpool liked that too and wanted him too and it was unfair that he made Peter feel guilty too for being who and what he was. 

“Okey, just listen” Wade needed more explanation? He was going to have it. Peter couldn’t even sit on the bed so he had to make his improvised-not-improvised speech lying almost under his Wade, what maybe could support even more his point. 

“I liked what we did yesterday. I loved it. I fucking loved every moment of it. When you stood up and told me that it was ok, that you were going to be there for me, and you didn’t rejected me when I wanted to be yours so bad and…” He sighed, trying to put himself together again, the past events taking control of his emotions. “And even when I started bleeding and you didn’t stop and I felt you cumming inside of me. It was the best sexual experience of all my life. I needed that Wade, and you gave it to me, you weren’t scared, you didn’t send me home, you didn’t laugh at me…” And in this pause Wade took the opportunity to say “ I would never, never laugh at you, baby boy…” but before he could add anything else, Peter keep his speech, not letting the instinct of melting because of Wade’s words take the reins of his mind. 

“Please,” Peter begged “tell me now if this is something you didn’t take seriously, if for you it’s only a one night stand, or one night thing, and it’s fine, I won't bother you. But if you truly took me as yours, as your belonging, as your fucking slave… please, let me be it then.” It look like Wade was going to complain but Peter needed to make it even clearer, use every words he remembered to made him understand “If I am that to you, I need to show you, I need, really need, to act like that. I need to become only and only that. Please, I need you to understand. I know it’s weird, I know I’m not normal, but is what it makes me happ- “And suddenly Wade’s mouth was eating all of Peter’s words. Fervently, like he hadn’t kissed anybody in years and he was feral and so desperately hungry for it, he devoured his tiny slave’s lips, tongue, inside skin, saliva, breath, sighs… his little everything’s everything. 

Peter gasped for air, breaking the kiss. Wade sank his gaze into Peter’s desperate and surrendered eyes. What he had just said to him, anybody had done anything similar before. It was a completely confession of love, of submission, a confession Peter knew Wade needed so bad to keep doing what they had done the night before. And yes, of course, Wade understood. Wade had understood that even before Peter had put it into words, but he had been too afraid, to incredulous to believe what he had had in front of him. And now there was no place for hesitation, for intrusive thoughts telling him that he had actually raped Peter and that Peter would hate him eventually for everything he did and everything he was willing to do to him. No. Now all those words had spoken the truth, Peter’s and Wade’s truth. And everything was okay. Peter wanted to be his slave for real? Great. Because Wade Wilson wanted to be his Master so bad… 

“So my little boy is so hungry…” purred Wade, against Peter’s forehead, kissing the soft skin all over. The slave just whispered a low “yes”. 

“You want to have breakfast now?” kept singing lowly between soft kisses while Peter only moaned as a response “you want to suck me up, waiting for it to release and feed you? Do you want to swallow all my cum?… feel it down your throat… reaching your stomach… your body nourishing from it?” Wade’s cock was standing hard as rock, almost hurting, waiting impatiently for Peter’s mouth. 

In an unexpected quick movement, Wade grabbed Peter’s throat, approached his lips to his little everything’s ear, and ordered in a sharp, all of a sudden dark and threatening order “So what are you waiting for, little shit. Go choke on my cock” and that command was music to Peter Parker’s ears. 

He crawled under the sheets until positioning his body between Wade’s separated legs. The owner of that cock that he couldn’t still see due to the lack of light under the fabric stood half incorporated on his elbows. Peter approached the face to that scrotch and gave a deep breath, sinking his nose just between his Master’s balls. It smelled of sex, like real-real dirty sex. Peter raised his tongue giving a slow lick along the cock until his tip. He could taste himself. The himself of the night before. The himself he was falling again. That himself. 

Wade unwrapped the sheets that were still covering them and took a second to appreciate the views he just discovered. His beloved little everything was grabbing his tights, innocently playing with the tip of his dick, placing small kisses and shy licks. How could anybody look so little, so innocent, so happily helpless, with those so big puppy eyes staring just from behind his hard cock? It was unbelievable. So the oniric fairy -was there any other name for that being who surrendered to him willingly?- started to swallow his member. Very slowly and gently, trying to make as much eye contact as possible, Peter made Wade’s cocks disappear in his mouth. Inch by inch, those lips embraced the scarred length, the tongue massaging it trying to give him all the pleasure that his mouth was able offer. Long before Peter’s nose could hit Wade’s skin, the little boy stopped. That was all he could take, at least my himself. He tried to go further, useless efforts making him pant through his nose, choking himself with his own saliva and Wade’s precum. He searched Wade’s eyes desperately, asking for help, begging. 

“Well done baby boy… you are doing great”. Whispered Wade, passing a hand through Peter’s hair and leaving it there softly. “But you can do better… I know you can…”he kept petting his little everything while he stood still, Wade’s cock in his mouth, trembling against the entrance of his throat. “You look so beautiful, eating me. I bet you would be happy to rest like this all day, just swallowing whatever comes from that dick, wouldn’t you?” Peter moaned, sending little tremblings to the dick he was holding. 

“So little, so mine… so perfect” And with the praise, he really tried again to absorb more of that piece of meat. “Shht… patience my little slave” A second hand started petting his hair too, combing it away from his face. “Let me tease you.” And he moved gently his hips, just making Peter feel his dick moving, but not actually thrusting or putting it away. “ Oh Peter… look at you. Your face is red, it looks like you are going to cry. Would you like to cry for me? cry for Daddy?” Yes, Peter nodded, a tear already threatening to fall from his right eye. “Cry like last night… while I was fucking your ass with this very same cock. You cried so much, bleed so much. Can you taste it now? My cum, your ass, your dried blood….” And again, Peter gagged himself on purpose with what was becoming his favourite toy. “Ssht… sht… don’t move…you are so eager” That tear finally dropped from the corner of his eye, caressing the bruise on his cheek that was starting to fade away. Peter could feel his own cock, completely hard and excited, responding to all that dirty talking, like Wade’s words were stroking it. He moaned, this time louder. 

“Can wait anymore? You want it all in your throat?” And Wade’s hands held his head, the petting suddenly turning into a hard grab. He started to pull away his cock, leaving a painful emptiness in Peter’s mouth. “Why?” The pet whispered, his lips barely touching his Master’s cock while spoke. Wade moved his weast, passing the big and trembling desire through Peter’s lips like a moist lipstick. “How bad do you want it, little thing?” And he understood. He had to beg. 

“Please… I need it so bad” His voice sounded extrange to him. “I want to suck it, to taste it. Please, fuck my mouth” He looked Wade into the eye, intensely, and this time he almost screamed with a sob “I’m so hungry of you… please, feed me”. 

“Please what?” Was all that answered Wade, ending the words with a terrifying smile. 

“Please, Daddy… please, my Master” And Peter opened his mouth expecting it, knowing he had earned that precious prize. Wade pushed his cock into the desperate hole, feeling the moist, the warm, and the moans that Peter was letting scape. “Hold on, my beloved fuck toy. Let’s make you cry”. And with a violent trust he made Peter’s nose crash against his skin, pushing the head against his body, feeling how Peter was struggling to get away from the intrusion, to find the air that had just been so fiercely deprived from his lungs. 

 

Wade counted five seconds and then he let Peter back a little bit, resting his dick on the trembling tongue. The little thing was completely flushed, panting and hungry for more. Before Wade could thrust again, Peter impaled himself violently, choking, panting, crying. God, it hurt so much, but he loved even more the pain that Wade’s body was able to give to him. He rested still, his owner’s eyes going wide seeing the effort, the will to please him in his slave’s actions. He was so happy, so surprised. So proud and so pleased. He didn’t deserve that. And grabbing that head again, with a few thrusts, he came so hard in Peter Parker’s throat. The creamy cum swinging down, Peter’s muscles moving to swallow it… it couldn’t be better. That’s what Peter thought, that’s what Wade thought. And then, when the Master stopped pushing his slave’s head, the most amazing thing happened. Peter didn’t back away, Peter didn’t try to breath, or stop the situation. He rested still, a few seconds more, wanting to enjoy the pain and the humiliation a little longer… and then slowly, like it was the last time he could taste the best candy he ever had, he pulled licking and massaging the soft cock, tasting the remains of cum and moist and everything. Everything. He wanted all of it. All of Wade’s. All of Deadpool’s. 

He looked up just to find a mask, again, looking at him. He wanted to see the expression on his Master’s face, but he knew he couldn’t just ask now, it wasn’t the time. The red fabric was resting on this nose, letting Peter see the hanging open mouth panting, liking his lips with anticipation. 

“Oh, my baby, you did it so well” Whispered, with incredulity all over the words. 

“Did I? Sure you liked it? I could do it differently or you could tell me how to…” but his words were interrupted by Wade’s hungry kiss. He moved his lips and his tongue like he wanted to actually eat all of that mouth that moments ago had eaten him. Peter sucked that tongue like he was still hungry for more. And then Wade, against his desires, broke the kiss. 

“You know, little thing, you need to actually eat”

“I know…” moaned, feeling the cum in his belly, feeling full. His voice kind of low due to the thrusting “I loved breakfasting you”. 

“Breakfasting” Repeated Wade, and started to laugh, hugging Peter like he was a little silly boy. Wasn’t he anyways?

“Why don’t you have a shower… while I prepare something to keep breakfasting in the kitchen?” Proposed the older, following the joke, without letting Peter go from the hold of his arms. 

“Okay… I’m gonna miss you in the shower… would you joi-”

“Ssht… sweetcheeks, it will be plenty of time for that. You are sore, and tired. Let me take care of you a little bit. I can’t be just taking from you all the time. Would you let me give you love too? Or you just want me to abuse you?” He said that in the joking tone they had been having after the blowjob, but Peter could understand how serious the question was. Wade was concerned that Peter only wanted him to hurt him. It wasn’t about that, it was about so much more! And Wade, without talking it, already knew. He was the perfect Master he had been looking for for so long. 

“Of course. I would love you to take care of me. I am yours.” Answered Peter, in the sweetest voice he could convoque, looking with passion the two white circles where Wade’s eyes were hiding.

Deadpool kissed him on the forehead, just love and anything else. “That’s it then, baby. Move that raped ass to the shower before I want to break it a little bit more.”

And he did. Walking painfully, he entered that known bathroom and closed the door. So many things had happened since the first time he was there… and his state, actually, was almost the same. Sore and hurt, but not feeling embarrassment at all… but pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) Feel free to write any comments of any kind.


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